These Things Hidden
by ChasingRainbows90
Summary: With Zosia facing a difficult situation, she struggles to accept support.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm really not sure where this idea came from but it was buzzing around my head at like 3am the other day and I've ended up writing it :-/ (along with a fair few other bits of fics littered around my computer). This won't be a long fic and currently stands at 3 parts but will probably end up around 5. Hopefully it's ok because it's my first proper attempts in ages at writing a non-Jac/Jonny fic. Major thanks to MirrorSparkles1234 who has been reading bits of this to help me out. **

"Well aren't you looking chirpy this morning?" Dominic Copeland grinned as his female roommate flopped down on the sofa. She just about managed to summon the energy to turn her head in his direction and shoot him a rather withering glare, daring him to make any further comment, "and you were the lightweight last night," he added with a laugh, before he resumed spooning his breakfast in to his mouth.

"You are looking a little peaky" Arthur peered up at her from behind his book, despite the early hour he was already nose deep in a textbook, presumably studying up on something.

"Well you two certainly know how to make a girl feel good about herself," she groaned slightly as she spoke. If even Arthur noticed then something had to be up, he wasn't the most observant of people.

"We're just concerned about you," Somehow Dom managed the sweetness and light routine rather successfully, but Zosia saw the way in which Arthur rolled his eyes at the performance, but a look of concern did flicker across his face.

"You sure you're up to work," He pushes his glasses a little further up his face, studying her slightly in the same way she's seen him eye up a patient. She can almost see the little cogs turning in his head, probably coming up with a number of impressive diagnoses that he can give her.

"Don't you two have something better to do?" She narrows her eyes. Sometimes living alone was so much more preferable to having roommates.

"Better be careful Digby," At the comment, Arthur dropped his book lower and flashed a look of confusion in Dominic's direction.

"What?" This time it was Dominic's turn to roll his eyes as he took in his fellow doctor.

"I think our friend Zosia has an aunt visiting," Zosia could almost hear the smirk in Dominic's voice, but she resisted looking in his direction and reacting to what he had said. Instead she forced herself to concentrate of Arthur and watching as he tried to puzzle out what Dominic had said.

"We don't have a spare room for her," He stuttered the words, twisting his lips slightly in the look of a child, "are you not fond of her then?" he added

"No Digby, I don't think Zosia is especially fond of her," Again there was the amusement in Dominic's tone, and Zosia was certain if she turned to look Dominic would be shaking his head slightly with a look of bemusement on his face, "In fact you could say she's something of a pain" and that was enough to make something in Arthur's mind click as a slight flush passed up over his face as he realised his mistake.

"Well if you too have quite finished," Not wanting to be around the males any longer, Zosia pushed herself up from the sofa and made her way back in to her room, trying to push away the sick feeling that was plaguing her.

* * *

><p>Zosia groaned as she settled herself on a bench outside of the hospital. Really it was too early for her break but she hadn't been able to stick it on the ward any longer. She'd made a quick stop off for her grey hoodie before she'd disappeared outside before anyone could stop her. She could have stayed at the flat today, but being alone never made things any better – it just gave her time to think. Not that she could stop herself thinking anyway. In a rather disappointing turn of events, the ward was near deserted and that meant less time spent distracting herself with patients and more time for dwelling, while trying to ignore Dominic's comments and Arthur's attempts at being caring.<p>

She'd tried to ignore them for as long as possible, she'd even tried to distract herself by considering what issues led to Dominic seeming to derive such joy from ribbing her for what was essentially a normal aspect of being female. Only today it hadn't worked as it once would have – because she wasn't suffering from that normal aspect of being a female as she should have been.

She could reason with herself that it was simply because she was stressed that it was later than she expected. In fact she was probably making it worse for herself by becoming more stressed because it was late. It was something of a vicious circle, and no doubt if she relaxed things would happen as they were supposed to and she'd be able to laugh at her own stupidity.

Only she couldn't quite push away the worry that this wasn't all just a stress response. She'd been trying to ignore things for the last few days – the slightly nauseous feeling that had been plaguing her she'd tried to put it down to the stress that she'd been feeling, the stress she was making worse by worrying all the more plus she'd let the boys cook and that slight cramping she felt was just the prelude to the start of her cycle. She could reason it all away to herself, with ease, only the nagging doubt would still return to her.

She closed her eyes and ran a hand over her face, as her stomach swirled a little more intensely. It was obviously just her nerves, the fact that she was overthinking and now the nausea was worse was enough to confirm that.

"How far gone are you?" She hadn't even heard anyone approach her, but she'd know that voice anywhere and she felt a shiver run through her body. She felt the pressure against the table as another set of arms rested against it. She willed the other woman to walk away, to leave her but she knew that was never going to happen.

"I'm not," She answered almost instantly without even bothering to open her eyes and look at her companion. She knew she answered in much the same way she would have as a petulant teenager, in the same way she'd responded when it had been suggested that she should consider going on the pill.

"Zosia …" She could hear in her companion's voice that she didn't believe her. It was the voice of experience, of someone talking to someone so much younger and in need of guidance, only that was the last thing that Zosia wanted, particularly from this particular woman.

"Just leave me alone," She knew she was acting like a child, but somehow she couldn't seem to push passed that. Besides there was some small part of her that seemed to think that if she kept this up, her companion would give up and leave her be – just like so many seemed to do with a teenager who acted in this way. Only she was no longer a teen – and this was no ordinary person sat with her.

"You should know me better than that," At that she felt her eyes shoot open, and she allowed her gaze to settle on the face of Colette Sheward. The older woman was sitting with her arms crossed on the table, her own hoodie wrapped around her body and a look on her face that said she had all the time in the world to sit here.

"Then maybe I should just leave," Only she didn't really want to do that. Her options for escape were limited. If she were to go back to the ward she'd have to put up with Dominic and Arthur once more, and no doubt Colette would be close on her heels trying to drag her away – and with the ward so quiet she'd have little choice but to go for fear that otherwise Colette would go running to Guy. But chances are Colette would find her wherever she ended up.

"Or we could sit here," Colette shifted slightly, allowing herself to get a little more comfortable although that was easier said than done on this bench.

"Suit yourself," Zosia hoped that meant sitting her in silence but she knew she wouldn't be that lucky. All she could wish for was that Colette would get cold or that her discomfort would result in her giving up at some point soon. Actually thinking of it, the temperature was dropping, and Zosia found herself pulling her own hoodie more tightly around herself as she tried to conserve a little warmth.

"How've you been?" It was safer territory for now, but Zosia knew it would soon shift in direction once more. Zosia sighed, before swallowing hard.

"I'm fine," The lie came easily although she was feeling slightly better. The nausea had receded slightly, not to the point of no longer existing but her stomach didn't quite feel like a whirlpool any longer. She could see in Colette's face that she didn't believe her, though she fought to hide it.

"And living with the boys is working out alright?" Colette knew about the new living arrangements from Guy and equally knew that he wasn't entirely comfortable with the arrangement. Of course Dominic was safe when it came down to it, and Doctor Digby was hardly a threat but Colette understood where Guy was coming from – Zoshie was his little girl and he worried about her.

"Like living with two overgrown children, but it's good," But then she was hardly the most adult of women herself or at least not right now. In truth she rather liked living with Arthur and Dominic as frustrating as they could be, it worked out pretty well for her. Although if she hadn't been living with Arthur perhaps she wouldn't have been worrying right now.

A shiver ran through Zosia's body, something that she failed to disguise causing the look of concern on Colette's face to deepen.

"How about we move this inside?" She too was feeling the cold but she couldn't leave the young doctor, not when she was near certain of what was happening. She saw the conflict in Zosia - the way she shook her head to say no though her eyes seemed to give a different answer, "I'll treat you to a hot drink, and a muffin" That had once been Guy's trick she recalled, though he would use his own special hot chocolate. Still Pulses seemed like a fairly decent alternative.

"Are you actually giving me a choice?" Zosia tilted her head slightly to one side.

"Not a chance," And with that Colette got to her feet, and Zosia followed suit. In normal circumstances she probably wouldn't have given in quite so easily but she was starting to feel rather cold, and that wasn't good for her - especially if she was actually brewing some sort of bug.

The two women made their way in to the building and with a firm hand, Colette managed to steer Zosia in to the booth that would offer them the most privacy from the other patrons of Pulses and anyone else in the vicinity before she made her way up to the counter to order the pair of them a drink. Normally Colette would have gone for a coffee, but the niggling suspicion in her made her order differently. As she approached the table with the drinks in hand, she couldn't help but notice the slightly wary expression on Zosia's face.

"It's hot chocolate, not coffee" was the answer she gave as she placed the two steaming drinks down before she settled herself in to a chair - which was decidedly more comfortable than the bench.

"I thought the deal involved a muffin," the young doctor twisted her lips. In truth she wasn't at all hungry, but she had no intention of giving her colleague an easy ride of this.

"And how many hands do you think I have?" Colette smiled though, "Tell you what, we'll talk and I'll get the muffins in a bit,"

"That wasn't the deal," Again the childishness that seemed to take her over in the presence of Colette, or Guy, but Colette seemed to take it more in her stride. Perhaps because this attitude was all she ever seemed to know from Zosia whereas Guy still had the memories of how she had once been.

"Things change, you just have to deal with it," Colette wrapped her hands around the drink, allowing it to warm her slightly. She daren't take a sip yet knowing the liquid was likely to scold her. This however didn't seem to deter Zosia and while Colette tried to warn her, the junior doctor took no heed and ended up spluttering slightly as the too hot liquid hit her tongue.

Setting the cup back down, Zosia cast it a stern glance as though it was the liquids fault and not her own. It hadn't tasted right anyway and with distaste she pushed it slightly further away, before she rested her hands on her lap.

"Do I need to ask you again, or will you just tell me?" it took Zosia a minute to twig what the other female was saying, and she turned her head away. There was nothing to say, right now she had no answer to give and she wouldn't have one either.

"Can't you find someone else to entertain you?" Zosia watched as people passed by, people who she could see but that couldn't see her. There were some she recognised and others she didn't, but they all seemed inherently more interesting than having to be involved in this conversation.

"Zosia, I know there's something going on with you," So many people passed by this part of the hospital, each one with a story. She could spend a lifetime trying to puzzle each one of them out, and yet still have more to learn.

"You don't know anything about me," It was near impossible to find out everything about another person, and yet getting to the root of them was something that fascinated her. Only in reverse - people trying to discover the inner workings of her own mind - it unsettled her. And it was true, Colette knew nothing of her. She heard the director of nursing sigh slightly.

"I know that your feeling nauseous and probably trying to convince yourself it's a virus or stress," Her tone was knowledgable but it could just have been a lucky guess. Even the boys had noticed she was peaky, that she looked pale. It made sense then that she'd been feeling a little on the nauseous side if she was looking at that way - there was no need to jump to any conclusions from that.

"Have you tried being an F1 recently?" She didn't turn back to look at Colette. Instead she kept watching as the people moved passed.

"And foods and drinks that you normally love, just aren't tasting right to you" that was her own fault, her reaction to the hot chocolate - which couldn't wholly be blamed on the heat - had given Colette that little tidbit of information but it meant nothing. The drinks in Pulses weren't up to her normal standard.

"Sometimes it's nice to have a change,"

"And I'd warrant a guess that you're currently stressing because your late," at that Zosia twisted her head round to look at the other woman, her anger barely concealed.

"Why won't you just let this drop?"

"I heard the boys talking," Colette's voice dropped as she thought to the conversation she'd heard on the ward, the joking of the two men and how she had seen the look on Zosia's face as she'd slipped away, "and I saw how you reacted," she added the words softly.

"It's nothing," Zosia's voice was equally quiet and somewhat defeated. She saw the sympathetic look on Colette's face.

"Then you won't have any issue with taking a test will you?" The older woman dealt her hand easily and Zosia frowned.

"There's no need," She tried to argue against it, but she knew there would be no escape now.

"If you've already done one ..." Colette started to talk and saw the expression change on the young doctor's face, "No I should've known you wouldn't have done that,"

"It's nothing," She tried again.

"If you were, how many weeks would you be?" She changed tacts a little, and watched as the F1 considered the question. Her mind calculating, and the quick flash of fear, of horror in her face that confirmed that it was altogether a very real possibility.

"6 weeks," the words come quietly, "but I'm not," followed by the denial but know that she has worked this out for herself suddenly it feels so much more real. She shudders, and feels the way her stomach rolls.

"You need to know Zosia," Colette's voice is gentle but firm. The F1 shook her head sadly, lowering her face so that she was looking down at the table. If she could just forget this ever happened, ignore this then maybe it would all just go away and she could forget it. But that wasn't an option now, and slowly she looked up at the woman she had grown to hate, and slowly she nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to anyone who has read this and for any reviews left :-) and a major thankyou to Mirrorsparkles1234 for reading bits of this and helping me out :-) I hope this part is ok. **

From the moment she nodded her head, Zosia wished she could recall the movement. From that moment she was trapped in the whirlpool that was Colette when she was on a mission. It was easy to forget how determined the older woman could be, especially when you tried, as Zosia had, to strike her from your memory but now it was all coming back to her.

She hadn't even attempted to finish her drink. There was little point. Having agreed to take a test, her stomach had decided that being settled was not part of the plan. She was surprised that the liquid she'd already consumed, along with the meagre breakfast she'd managed, hadn't made a reappearance given the performance it was giving. She hated how sick worry could make her, especially now when it was harder to convince herself it was just that.

Instead she'd quickly found herself spirited away to Colette's office – having been quickly reassured that Guy was busy for a good few hours yet. Sitting alone in that room, she'd had to fight against the urge to run. She could leave the hospital, leave a message that she's unwell and then hide out somewhere. She could disappear entirely for a few days, just long enough to get her head straight but then she'd still have to return and face Colette - Colette who by that point would likely have run to Guy and then this whole sorry situation would spiral out of control – and as yet she didn't even know that there was a situation too spiral. No she had to face this, as much as she hated that.

She tried to distract herself by studying the office. By taking in the things that Guy had bought in to make it his own, and the little touches that confirmed that Colette probably had more control than the CEO did. It sickened her slightly how much he seemed to rely on this other woman, the one who had always been the third wheel in her parent's marriage. She'd always watched them with suspicion but Mama had never seemed to worry as she did.

_Mama. _It was dangerous territory to think of her mother. Along time ago, mama had talked of how she looked forward to the day she could enjoy grandchildren. Zosia knew that it had pained her mother to only have the one child. Mama had so much love to give and had taken such joy in her role as mama that it was such a shame that she hadn't had a hoard of children to lavish and that made Zosia feel all the worse. At the end, when mama had needed her, after all those years of taking, she hadn't been there. There should have been so many people there with her, loving her as she had loved them and yet for mama – her beautiful mama – there had been none of that.

And now she wasn't there, and that made this all the more scary. If mama was here, she could have talked with her. She could have sought comfort in her mother's arms as she whispered soft words in Polish, words she'd used to soothe her in childhood and which would still have the desired affect now that she was an adult. Mama who would support her whatever she chose to do – if she had a choice to make – while all the while hoping that she would know the pleasure of having a grandchild to love, to have a house which rang once more with a child's laugh. She knew that mama would have offered to raise the child for – with – her. Would have looked after a little one while she worked, so that she wouldn't have to give up all that she had worked for, but there was no chance of that now. There was no mama with her soft words, no arms to hold her. There was just this cold empty office, and the sickening fear that threatened to consume her whole.

And then she was no longer alone or at least not physically. The door opened, and Colette came in, a rectangular box in her hand. Zosia wanted nothing more than to scream at her, for the indiscretion of carrying the box in that way. Anyone she had passed would know what that box contained, and that somewhere in the hospital some poor girl was sitting waiting to find out if she had mucked up her life. Of course given it was Colette they would most likely assume it was one of the nurses but even so, it would only take someone having seen her enter or seeing her leave to put two and two together and work it out.

And really, there wasn't going to be anything to work out. She couldn't be. It was inconceivable that the white stick in that box could show anything other than a negative result. She'd always been the same, worrying herself sick over the stresses in her life and that was what she was doing now. She was already struggling, the pain of having him around and knowing that mama was no longer there. This was all just a mistake, a nightmare from which she would soon wake.

"Zosia," Colette's voice was soft as she tried to draw her from thoughts. Only her mind had no intentions of giving her any respite. Every possible thought seemed to be jostling within her brain for attention, each one thinking it was the most important while all she wanted was for everything to shut up, to leave her be. Perhaps this was her penance for being selfish, for not being there for mama. She had thought of herself, and her needs, her way of getting here and now she couldn't escape from herself.

"Doctor March," Colette tried again, and now she relinquishes her hold on the box placing it down on her desk. It drew Zosia's attention. How many women bought boxes just like that desperate each month for a positive result? Once, she imagined, her mama was one of those women, hoping that she would get to hold a second baby in her arms. And then there were the other women – and she supposed now she joined their ranks – who bought these tests in the desperate hope that it would confirm they weren't going to be mothers, that it was all a mistake. These little boxes held so much power over people's lives.

That little box scared her. She couldn't do this. She wasn't the person who should be sitting here. It wasn't her place. This was the chair in which one of Colette's nurses should sit having made a drunken mistake, and now they were having to find out if there was a lasting consequence to that action. She wasn't like them. She was careful, the one in control. She made sure that she wasn't ever going to be the one sitting here and yet she was here now. Despite the fact she could tell herself it was a mistake, a pointless exercise, still she was here.

Her stomach rolled once more and she struggled to control it. She needed to stop herself from thinking that was the only way to make this better. If she stopped thinking then she could stop worrying and then all of these problems would just disappear – unless …

Unless she was, she couldn't even bring herself to think the word. It was a ridiculous idea.

And then she couldn't hold it any longer. The rolling in her stomach intensified and she pushed herself as quickly as she could manage from the chair, and dashed in the direction of the nearest ladies. She hated herself for giving in to this, for finding herself leaning over the bowl of a toilet emptying the contents of her stomach. She was giving in to her body's tricks, and making herself weak.

She felt a hand fall against her back, while another caught her hair and pulled it away from her face. At one time she would have guessed it was her mama, and she would have felt comforted by the presence of someone being there for her. Mama would whisper those words once more, and though her stomach ached and her mouth burned with acid it would have made her feel better. Only this felt different, the presence wasn't as comforting.

"I think you know what you have to do," Though the words were gentle, they offered her no comfort. Taking that stupid test would at least get Colette off her back. She could get it over with, and then return to normal. She could forget that today had ever happened, that Colette had seen her like this.

"Can you leave me?" Zosia rocked back, now that she stomach seemed to have given up trying to catapult itself out of her body via her mouth. She didn't want Colette with her, she wanted her mama. She needed her mama. She felt Colette shift, lowering her body so that she was nearer her level.

"Can I trust you to take this?" The box is pressed in to one of her hands. It feels strange, and she has to force her fingers to curl around it, to take hold.

"Yes," her answer comes quietly, but she cannot bring herself to look at Colette.

"And you'll tell me the result?" She knew there would be no escape from that. Telling Colette was the only way to get her to leave her alone, to end this. If she didn't do it by choice, it would be dragged out of her regardless.

"Would you even give me a choice?" It's a slightly bitter response. In truth Colette has no business knowing, just as she had no business getting herself involved in this. She could have just left well alone, the way Zosia liked it.

"There's some mouthwash and things in my office," It's a slight change in the subject, but Zosia cannot help but appreciate it. There was no point in Colette answering the question, the answer already known to both of them. This just confirms it, Zosia knows that Colette would be waiting in the office for her but the offer of something to help disguise what has happened is touching.

"Thank you," The words feel alien on her tongue as she directs them towards Colette. She runs her fingers over the box without looking at it, feels the sharp edges of the corners that jab at her finger. Perhaps the box alone could do damage in the same way the stick it contains could destroy someone's life – with both of its possible results.

"You sure you know what you're doing?" She turns at that, trying to fix Colette with the best glare she can manage but it's something of a half-hearted attempt.

"Any idiot can piss on a stick," Heck even men can manage it, a fact she'd had confirmed during medical school when some of her male friends had thought it would be entertaining to take one of these tests. She never did quite understand the appeal of such an experiment but still, it proved a point – anyone could take it.

"You have a point," With a last pat on the back, Colette stood up and made her way out of the cubicle.

As she heard the door close, Zosia forced her body in to a standing position long enough to be able to push the door closed and to slip the lock. Settling herself down on the toilet, she studied the box once more. It wasn't one of the cheap ones, and that surprises her a little. It meant that Colette must have slipped out of the hospital and bought it rather than just slipping one from the supply cupboard.

When finally she had it unboxed she twirled the stick in her fingers, looking at the still blank window that in a few minutes time would give her a result. That little window that would tell her she wasn't. That she was stupid for even doing this.

The wait for the result seems to extend for a lifetime. She'd heard it said before, from friends who made mistakes that it was the longest three minutes of their life and she had always scoffed at them. But now she understood. She couldn't understand how three minutes could last so long, how each second could drag on for an eternity and yet outside of this tiny space the world would be carrying on at its usual speed. It had slowed only for her.

And then the little screen changes. She can't pinpoint the exact second it happens, or how it happened but suddenly there is no longer blank space. Instead her fate is spelled out in front of her eyes only she seems to have lost the ability to read. Her mind no longer seems to be able to decipher the letters in order to make words.

Only one thing is clear to her. There is only one word. There is no break between these squiggles that she knows to be letters. One word means only one thing. She swallows hard. She isn't. She can't be. And yet one word, one stick, says that she is.

She pulls free a piece of toilet paper and wraps it around the offending plastic article, no longer able to look at it before she barges free of that too small space. She doesn't even notice the fact that her breathing has altered, that it has become more ragged as she desperately tries to contain emotions that she doesn't understand. This wasn't supposed to happen, it isn't a part of her plan.

And then somehow she feels arms come around her body, and her head lowers coming to rest on the shoulder of someone she cannot see – her vision blurred by tears she hadn't even realised she was shedding. She allows the person to gently stroke at her back, and to hold her. It felt familiar and safe and she dissolves.

"I can't do this," Somehow she manages to sob out the words.

"Hush now," the voice tries to be soothing, and the pressure against her back increases that little bit more. Her vision clear enough for her to make out that whatever she is sobbing on to is green in colour, and with a jolt she realises that Colette had never really left her, that she had waited here probably knowing this was going to happen.

For a moment she allows herself to be held, to be comforted by this woman before she pushes herself away. It shouldn't be Colette here and she shouldn't let this happen. Swallowing hard, she forces herself to walk away without sorting her face, trying to work out where she can get too without being seen in order to do so.

As she walks away, she hears Colette's voice calling out after her, only she ignores it and carries on walking. But she knows, she's on borrowed time. Colette knows. She shouldn't have spoken, but for the briefest of moments it could have been mama holding her, for that second she had that comfort. But now she has the knowledge that Colette will be on her case, making her confront this and there is no escape from that. And all the while within her uterus an embryo is developing, embedding itself in her life, already stealing from her. And all she wanted was her mama's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to anyone who is reading this (especially MirrorSparkles1234 for again offering help on bits of this! I really appreciate it) and for any reviews left. I hope this is alright. **

Somehow she manages to avoid returning to work for two days. In those two days she managed to avoid the boys entirely, claiming that entering her room would be at their peril given the absolute dreadfulness of the bug she had acquired. The irony being that this particular bug was one that neither of her flatmates could ever experience – though one was, at least partially, responsible for her having suffered.

In those two days, she had to field calls from Colette, who saw through the illness excuse. There was little hope of her doing otherwise really, but Zosia had at least hoped that Colette would get the message that she didn't want to talk to her, let alone to talk about this. It was something of a surprise that Guy hadn't been on her case yet, as it seemed improbable that Colette wouldn't have gone running to him after 48 hours of being fobbed off but so far that seemed to be the case.

But after two days, she could no longer stand being alone with her thoughts, alone with it. It still seemed impossible that she was … with child … she had yet to use the P word in relation to herself. Still she tried to convince herself that her sudden hatred of foods she had once loved, foods that now had her bent double over the toilet bowl was simply due to her stress levels and not that tiny being that had invaded her body.

It was two days while she battled with her mind, and the reality that she had to face this. She tried to imagine herself with a screaming infant in tow, to see herself as rounded like Jac Naylor had been in the weeks before her child had made her appearance in the world. Only she couldn't quite bring the image to mind. It would slip away before she could capture it, and try to understand if that was how she saw her future.

In some ways she knew. As a child she hadn't paid much heed to the baby dolls nor had she envisioned a future for herself where she would be strapped to a cot, with a baby who was constantly demanding her breast and nothing resembling an independent life. She was the one who was supposed to be out doing things. She wanted to be the independent woman, the one running the show. She had this future planned out, the things she wanted to do and achieve and try as she might she couldn't fit a baby in to the vision.

And yet there was a voice in the back of her mind. The voice of her mama talking to her about the grandchildren she hoped to have in the future, and this – this tiny being – could potentially be the first of those grandchildren. This bundle of cells was the start of the thing her mama had dreamed of and she couldn't help but think how happy that would've made mama. But what did that matter now really? Mama would never be there to see and hold such a child, nor would she be able to place a hand against a swollen abdomen to feel the punches and kicks of an unborn grandchild. Mama would want this, and she could do it for mama but mama wasn't here to support her, to help her.

She would need mama. She needed mama. She needed her mama's words of advice, her arms around her as she tried to puzzle it out. Mama would want her to keep it, but she wouldn't pressure her in to do so. She knew though she would do as mama wanted – even if mama didn't say it, she would do it. She wouldn't want to see that disappointed look in her beautiful mama's eyes. She would give anything though to see the joy, the light in them that would come if she found out she was to become a grandmama.

Only she never would find out either way. It wouldn't matter to mama now, whatever decision she made. Only she doesn't quite believe that. Mama had always spoken of the place she would one day go too, where all of them would go too if they were good people and how once you were there you could look over those you had loved, to keep them safe. And that would mean mama knew. And that makes it harder once more.

"Is she going to do any work today?" Somehow the words filter through to her, and she returns to her senses. She'd almost forgotten she was sitting at the desk in the middle of the ward that around her was the hubbub of activity. She looks up to see the way Dominic and Arthur are studying her.

"Are you sure you're well enough to be back at work?" Arthur sounds much more concerned than his colleague, who rolls his eyes slightly. Dominic had been slightly more suspicious of her illness, and still seemed to be holding on to that. In that respect Arthur was so much easier, and yet things with him were so much more complicated.

She'd tried not to think too much of Arthur in terms of this. She didn't want him to know, that would muddy the waters when it came to make decisions. Oh she accepted that he had the right to know, and even to express his opinion but it was her that would have to go through this. Arthur would still have his life, his career while she would have to make so many sacrifices.

She frowns, looking at the pad in front of her. She'd started filling it out earlier but had found herself pausing over the details. It felt strange to be using a name she hadn't written in so very long, that of her cousin from Poland who she had once pen-palled with but had lost contacted with so many years previously. She knew it was wrong, but it had seemed like her only choice – it gave her options.

"Ah Doctor March," She feels her head dart up at the sound of the voice, and there was Colette striding towards the boys. She offers them a small smile and then with a flick of her wrist indicates from them to leave. Zosia sees the glance that passes between them, a curiousity as to what is going to happen between the F1 and the Director of Nursing, but they retreat to a safe distance not wanting to risk one of Colette's tongue lashings.

"I'm quite busy," Zosia makes a play of shuffling some of the papers in front of her, hoping that she hasn't messed anything up and that it is a credible enough act to foil the other woman. It also worked to cover the pad in front of her. Colette stepped closer to the desk, making it easier for her to be able to talk without being overheard.

"So I can see," But from the tone of her voice it's evident she believes none of it.

"So can we do this later?" Not that she wants to do this, but it seems safer to do it on her terms. She could come up with some excuse later as to why she can't meet Colette, to be able to delay this even further but the older woman is likely to already be aware of avoidance tactics.

"I think we'd be better doing this now," and Zosia has to accept her fate. She slowly pushes herself up from the desk, and makes her way round to stand by Colette, "is there anywhere we can go?" it doesn't need saying why they cannot use Colette's office, Guy would be there.

"The break room should be free," She could have made something up, that there was nowhere they could go but it is near certain Colette would find them somewhere and it would probably be a lot less comfortable than the break room. At least then she'd have control. She could make sure that there's no smells that might trigger a wave of nausea that she might not be able to avoid elsewhere.

"Ok then," and with that the two of them started to walk together, neither one speaking. A small part of Zosia thought she should let someone know where she was going but the hospital seemed to have ears of it's own and no doubt it was already halfway around the ward that she was heading off for a chat with Colette. She knew it would raise interest, given the curiousity surrounding Guy's relationship with Colette and his relationship with her. Chances are by the time the door closed behind the pair of them, new theories would already be circulating as to what was going on.

In the privacy of the room, Zosia settled herself down on one of the seats, choosing the one that was the most comfortable for herself. She rested her head forward slightly, dropping it on to her arms as she watched Colette busying herself for a moment, pouring herself a glass of water.

"Tiredness getting to you?" As Colette settled herself down opposite the F1, she couldn't help but notice the way in which the young woman was looking. The effects of her pregnancy were already written over her face though it seemed that many were ignoring it – or were buying in to this illness story she'd concocted following her departure home after she'd received that result.

"It's nothing," but her voice was weary. It was only 3 and a bit hours in to her shift and already she was struggling, and what really did she have to show for it. She didn't have the excuse that Ms Naylor had, had when she'd been caught napping in the office on Darwin for her own abdomen was still flat and the embryo still minute. There was nothing that should be zapping her energy so efficiently and yet her body was already struggling to cope with the increased demands.

"You are many things Zosia, but a good liar is not one of them," There was a slight grimace on Colette's face as she took a sip of her water.

"And as I have told you before, you don't know me," It wasn't true what Colette said. She was a skilled liar, indeed she lied so very often that sometimes it became hard to tell what was the truth and what wasn't any longer but in her weakened state perhaps her abilities were slipping, "Not enjoying your drink?"

"It's not my normal choice," at that Zosia raised an eyebrow. Despite Guy having worked with Colette for so many years, she actually couldn't recall what the other woman drank regularly and yet she was sure she would have seen her with a cup in hand at home, "I wasn't sure how the smell would affect you, so I thought water was the safest choice," the older woman added it gently.

"I …" Zosia paused, unsure of how to continue. She didn't want to make a habit of thanking the other woman, and yet it was unusual for someone to do something for her without being asked. She saw the way Colette smiled, an understanding of why the sentence couldn't be continued.

"How've you been?" Placing the cup down, the concern paints Colette's face. It's almost as though she cares, but that seems a ridiculous notion given the way Zosia has treated her over the years.

"The bug really wiped me out," she answers on default, the way she did with her colleagues when they had asked her that morning. It seemed easier to carry on with the story.

"That's no way to talk about your baby," At those words she feels a flash of panic, she cannot let anyone hear them and yet she knows there is no one around. She watches as Colette's face softens once more, evidently struck by her reaction. Tentatively, a hand is reached out and placed on top of hers for just a moment before she pulls back, "Zosia,"

"It's embryo not a baby," she talks low, "it's barely out of the point of being an embryonic disc, let alone being a human infant" in the dark of the night, she had poured over textbooks, rereading the sections of embryonic development, working out what point the being was at. It was barely anything at all, and yet to so many it would already be precious – to mama it already would have been but she couldn't see it as such.

"It isn't always going to be that way," Colette is gentle in the way she says it. It's something Zosia has tried not to think about. She can deal with this embryonic thing that dwells in her uterus, but the idea of it becoming more human, more real frightens her. It will develop arms and hands, legs and feet from those limb buds that sit paddle like on its side. In not so many weeks, it will be fully recognisably human and not this strange creature that barely looks like anything. It easier to ignore the strange creature, it's almost a non-entity compared to the almost human that will take its place so she tries to forget that is to come.

"Do we have to do this?" Her voice comes childlike. She knows what Colette is trying to do, but she doesn't want too. In her more alert moments, she's thought. She's come close to making a decision before she's slipped back in to her state of denial, or trying to pretend that she doesn't have to deal with this at all. If this would all just go away it would be easier.

"You're going to have to deal with what's happening Zosia," It's a mothering tone that comes from Colette's mouth. If Zosia closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the older woman using that exact voice when talking to a younger child, but Colette has never been a mother and Zosia herself is no child – and especially no child of Colette's – and so it riles her.

"I don't want to do this," And yet she plays in to it with the childish response. She gets up quickly before Colette really has time to react and disappears back out on to the ward. She doesn't quite know what she is going to do to make herself look busy, because by her estimation she has all of two minutes before Colette follows her out here, and that could lead to something of a scene.

"Doctor March," She hears her name said hesitantly by a healthcare assistant whose name she doesn't know. She turns round to look at the girl.

"What?" She almost barks the response and yet this is almost perfect. It gives her something to make her look busy and to push Colette away for a bit. The girl bites her lip slightly, evidently somewhat startled by the reaction.

"Doctor Digby asked me to tell you that there's a bag from pharmacy arrived up but he doesn't know who the patient is, and he thought you might?" She talks in a rush as though she cannot get the words out quick enough to end this conversation. This time it is Zosia's turn to startle, she hadn't even realised she'd been gone long enough for the pharmacy orders to be sorted, or how that one would've been.

"Did he say where it is?" She speaks much more quietly, her words hesitant. She watches as the girl thinks, and wishes she could shake her until the answer comes.

"On the drugs trolley," she says finally and Zosia walks off, her footsteps quick. Stopping in front of the trolley, she finds herself pausing before she takes hold of the bag, and she holds it like it is some sort of explosive device. She studies it in her hand, it looks exactly the same as any other pharmacy bag, and yet the sticker on the front bears the name of her cousin.

"I found the chart under the notes," Dominic approaches her and flashes a smile, showing that he is rather pleased with himself, "though I don't recognise the patient name," he adds it with an almost knowing glint in his eye.

"She was discharged the other day without medication," It is the first thing that comes to find and she silently praises herself because it is at the very least slightly plausible. She grips the bag that little bit tighter, "Now if you'll excuse me,"

And with that she leaves her colleague. She slips in to the locker room. She wasn't sure what she had been trying to do when she'd filled out that form. She doubted she would have sent it, but it was there if she wanted too and now it had been done. The bag weighs heavily in her hand, though in truth there is so little in there.

She opens it cautiously, almost expecting it to be empty, that she didn't really fill it in but then pharmacy wouldn't send up an empty bag. She sees the boxes as she would have expected, two of them lying in wait.

She had thought of mama when she had filled it out, thought of her face and how she would feel. She had thought too of herself and what she would be doing but then she had considered what the alternative was. She closed her eyes tightly, wishing that someone could just tell her what to do and how she could fix this.

She stares down at the boxes, before she swallows hard.

"Zosia," She hadn't heard the door open. She throws the bag as discretely as she can in to her locker, and hopes that the newcomer didn't notice. She pushed the door shut and spun round.

"What are you doing here?" She didn't really need to ask. It was inevitable and yet she had hoped it wouldn't come to this.

"Colette said you walked out while she was talking to you," His disappointment is evident in his tone, but he shouldn't be surprised. She can see in his eyes that he is fighting against admonishing her, for what would be the millionth time on the subject, instead he inclines his head to one side, "She seemed concerned about you,"

"Well she has no need to be," She tries to force herself to sound more in control than she feels, pushing herself to move passed him.

"I'm worried about you Zoshie," He calls it out after her, and she has to fight even harder to contain her emotions. She could shout and tell him not to call her that, or argue that he has no right to worry about her but she cannot trust herself to do so. Instead she keeps walking, wishing for an escape.


	4. Chapter 4

**This part has been on my laptop for over a month now yet for some reason I've not posted it (I've no clue why). Anyone I hope that this is ok, and thank you to anyone who reads it. **

The walk back to the ward is far too quick for her liking. She knows that it would be all too easy for Guy to follow her, that he could just as easily find some excuse to have her attend a meeting in his office – though as not only her boss, but also her father, he hardly had to find much of a reason. Still it wasn't as though he really cared about her.

"Ah Doctor March, I was wondering when you might grace us with your presence," She turns her head to find Sacha standing at the desk, flanked by Arthur and Dominic. He flashes her his ready smile and she makes her way over to them.

"Well here I am," Getting closer she can see that Dominic has a slightly thunderous look on his face, and she desperately tries to wrack her brain in the hopes of trying to puzzle out why. She is certain if it was something big he would have mentioned it at some point recently, but then she has barely been taking anything in.

"I was just telling Doctors Digby and Copeland, that you will be joining me in theatre this afternoon," At this she hears Dominic whisper something that sounds like perks of being a daddy's girl though she cannot be certain. Surely they should know by now that the last thing that she wants is to spend her time in an operating theatre, even more so now that she isn't entirely sure how her slightly delicate stomach will hold up against the range of sights and smells that fill that environment.

"But I …" She tries to protest against it. She looks to Arthur in the hopes that he may help her, but he simply pushes his glasses up on his nose and tries to give her a supportive smile – or at least she thinks that's what he's going for. Suddenly the images filter in to her brain of Arthur pouring over so many different books and journals in their flat over the last few days – his way of swatting up ahead of this procedure in the hopes of getting involved.

"No buts Zosia," Sacha's smile broadens as though he is bestowing on her some great gift, "I've made my decision and you are the one who will be joining me," Again Dominic makes some noises of discontent before he bitterly makes some excuse that sees him leaving the area, still grumbling under his breath. To Zosia's mind, Dominic deserved it no more than she did. She hadn't seen him making an effort in the way that Arthur had.

"Why?" She asks it under her breath. There's no real point in the question. Guy is determined that she'll make it as a surgeon, to the point where she knows he is trying to persuade those around her to get her in to surgery as much as humanly possible in the hope that it'll trigger something in her. She doesn't understand why nobody understands that surgery isn't where her heart lies, and no matter how many times she is dragged in to a theatre that isn't going to change.

"We'll be scrubbing in at 1pm – don't be late," and with that the jovial surgeon walked away from the junior. At the very least Sacha seems not to even hear her question, or just not be bothering to respond. He doesn't really have to answer to her anyway, though she could imagine Dominic would give him hell for the decision.

Surgery was Guy's world. She could remember as a child him talking to her about it and how mama would try to stop him, to protect her little girl. She remembered how once, she could only have been 7 or 8, Guy had taken her out with Colette and how he had talked about his love of high risk care. The thrill of it and how the smell of blood was something that he missed when moving in to the lower risk sectors. Colette had laughed, and nodded her head slightly, but the thought of it had made the young Zosia feel slightly ill. It wasn't that she was squeamish, it was simply that it wasn't what captured her interest.

"There's some rather interesting journal articles in my locker I could get you," Arthur's voice is soft as it draws her away from her thoughts. It touches her slightly that even though he has been studying up for this and yet lost out to her, he is willing to offer his materials. He's a good guy. One of the few genuinely good people she has ever known and yet she has used him. She has used him just as she had used so many people in the hopes of bettering herself, and even when she didn't want something still she seemed to be walking over him, taking his opportunities. She is the selfish one, even if it's by default.

"Thank you," She answers him curtly, probably more so than she should have done. It is with Arthur that she had managed to get herself in to this mess. If she had just left him be, she wouldn't be here now. But like always it isn't Arthur's fault. He's the innocent here, and once more she is messing him up. She is going to hurt him and because it's him, he won't understand. He won't understand that it was never real, or supposed to happen because that overly intelligent head of his doesn't understand people and emotions.

"I'll get them for you," He sounds quite pleased with himself that he can do something for her and he scampers off in the direction of the locker room. She doesn't want articles, she doesn't want to know what lies ahead of her and yet it offers her an escape. It means not having to work alongside Dominic on the ward and having him comment on her getting this chance over him, it means not having to look at those puppy dog eyes of Arthur and she's know that Guy would leave her be if he thinks she is reading up ahead of the surgery she'd perform. He might even be proud of her – not that, that matters.

Maybe once she had wanted to make him proud – or more precisely she wanted to make him proud because that would make mama happy. She knew it pained mama to see the fractious relationship between father and daughter. She would've hated to see the way they were now, but then it shouldn't really have been a surprise to her. The signs had been there for so long with them, but perhaps if mama was still here, things would've been different.

"I hope these help," She hadn't even noticed Arthur reappearing but here he was with a stack of journals and pieces of paper in his arms. Mama would have approved of him, the good guy. She would've been happy if she'd bought a man like Arthur home – and even more she would have approved of him being the father of her grandchild, though she'd be expecting a wedding.

But that wasn't going to happen. Even if she did have this baby she was never going to be one of those women who married just for the sake of the child. She didn't want to tie herself in to loveless marriage just because she had been stupid enough to let a sperm fertilise her ovum - what good would it do for any of them being trapped in that life. If anything it would be pretty much a sure fire way of ensuring that one day the child ended up in a psychiatrists chair trying to work out his or her issues, and the blame would lie squarely at her feet. But mama would tell her that she could grow to love the man, and indeed that she would be lucky to have a man like Arthur who it seemed was already smitten with her. But she wasn't so sure.

"Thank you," she repeated it softly as he passed the stack in to her arms. The weight of it surprised her a little. It was enough to bring it home even more the efforts he had been putting in to this. He smiles back at her.

'If you want, you can sit and the staff room and go through them," He pushes his glasses up slightly higher on his nose, "and if there's anything you don't quite get, maybe we could talk it through before you go in," he makes the offer a little shyly and a part of her knows that this is a deal just for her. If it had been Dominic headed in with Sacha, this neat little stack would have remained in Arthur's locker but because it was her, he was offering her that little bit of extra help.

"That's kind of you," He shouldn't have been offering though. He should've been begging Sacha to reconsider and showing off the depth of his knowledge. but instead here he was, being his sweet self. She could do so much worse than him, and even just letting him help her was leading him on somewhat.

"No problem," again that shy smile plays on his lips before he disappears away from her, to return to the ward. She wonders absently if Dominic will tease him mercilessly for his efforts here, and the non-existent relationship he seems to be pursuing. Only it is not so non-existent as to cause her to become pregnant, and she cannot imagine how Dominic will react to that fact. If he even finds out because she doesn't have to let it get that far. It could remain her secret. Even Colette would never have to know the identity of the would be father.

Slowly she made her way towards the staff room. She should at the very least make the effort with this. Not that she wants too but its a way of distracting herself from her thoughts, from this situation. She doesn't want to think anymore because all that serves to do is increase the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She settles herself down and starts to work her way through, finding little bits that Arthur has highlighted or annotated. It's a sign of the way his mind works, the little comments he makes and the occasional doodle - some of which she eventually deciphers are rather crude, barely identifiable, interpretations of what he would need to do in certain parts of the surgery. Art and creativity it seems are not his strong suits.

She swallows hard and tries to stop herself thinking of Arthur, thinking of him only leads her back to thinking of it and of mama. She would love mama to have met him, perhaps with that brain of his, he would have been able to do something to save her. He was special like that, he knew so many things that very few others did that perhaps he would have held the key to mama's survival. He could've done the thing she couldn't and saved her. And then mama would have been here, to hold her and to tell her that everything was going to be ok. Mama would rest a hand against her still flat abdomen, a place she had barely dared touch since the moment she had found out, before guiding her own hand down. Perhaps she would have flinched and pulled it away, or held it there in reverent wonder but she cannot bring herself to find out.

She looks back down at the papers before her, only they swim in front of her eyes. She can't let herself get emotional here, not when there is such a risk of getting caught. There are so many people in this place, and no doubt word would quickly get round that Zosia March was caught sobbing in the staff room and no doubt it would quickly become embellished until there were countless theories circling as to why. Privacy didn't really exist here, not with such a legendary gossip network with hundreds of curious eyes and wagging tongues just waiting for the next tidbit to arise.

But no-one appears in the room with her, not even Arthur even though he has given her long enough to read the papers. She had almost been waiting for him to arrive to offer his own opinions and to give her guidance for how to approach this. In so many ways she wanted to see him, having to talk out loud would further distract her from her mind and it's ability to slip to topics she wished to avoid and yet seeing him made it all the harder to cope with this.

And then it's time to leave and she doesn't feel prepared. She barely even knows what the surgery is for despite having read the papers, but she knows what is expected of her and that if she fails to turn up the result would be a meeting with Guy and having to explain herself to him. So she shifts her body for the chair and neatens the stack of papers, knowing that Arthur would probably want them back to add to his ever growing collection. One day he'd be able to open his own library with all of the papers he had collected - a valuable resource to young medics like themselves, but for now it was his own though he was at least willing to share it with her, not that many of the surgical pieces were of interest.

She scrubs alongside Sacha as he talks joyfully about a subject she barely pays any attention too. She tries to nod her head in appropriate places but in truth she has no clue what she is or isn't agreeing with. She just has to hope that she isn't roping herself in to more theatre duties, or a longer stint on Keller. If she could she'd ask to change her rotation, to move in to an area that holds more of an interest to her but she knows Guy will never allow it to happen. He seems determined to keep her here in this world that makes her so very unhappy.

She tries to let Sacha take the lead as much as possible, trying to feign interest in the surgery and soaking in the knowledge of what is happening. Only she is spending the majority of her time trying to stop herself inhaling, to ignore the fact the room smells of sterility, of the blood from the open cavity. Its a smell that fills her nostrils and one that won't leave her for many hours no matter how much she wants it too. She can't imagine how anyone can enjoy it in here.

"And I think you might like to do this," She snaps to attention as Sacha addresses her, a smile on his face as he nods towards the instruments and the patient. She should have known that this was coming, that she'd be expected to play a part, only she doesn't want to. Behind her mask, she tries to force her face in to a picture of innocence.

"I would much rather see the master at work," She tries to keep her voice light, but its hard to keep the truth out of it. She doesn't want to be the plumber, the one arm deep in organs. She watches as Sacha's face changes, the laugh that he emits gently.

"Don't flatter me," He responds softly, "I've heard you are quite the talent and I'd like to see you at work," that she presumes is another of Guy's lies. It's meant to boost her, to make her feel like this is her environment but it's a tactic she is too used to and one which will never work. Still right now it seems it has left her no option but to get involved.

She nods her head slightly in defeat as she steps closer to the patient. She tries desperately to remember Arthur's doodles and to imagine how he would have done this. She feels her hand shake slightly as she reaches to grab the first tool that she needs. In truth she can do this, it's just that she doesn't like it. Only today it is slightly different. Her head swims that little bit more and she has to work harder to steady herself. She listens hard as Sacha tries to talk her through the moves she has to make. It's the simplest part of the operation, though she has no doubt he'll find something else for her to do in a bit.

She follows his instructions, forcing herself to keep her mind on the task at hand. Each second reminding herself to take another breath, to keep going. There's a time limit. She knows it. Each second that ticks by is one second that Sacha and those around her will get that little bit more antsy. And she has to get it right because outside, in a room somewhere near here, waits this person's relatives. The ones on edge wanting news, to be told that their loved one is going to be ok. If things had been different, if they had been able to do something for mama, would she have waited like that? She could've been on the other side. If it was her on the table, who would be waiting? Not Guy she assumed, he would be too busy with other things, and now not mama either.

"Zosia," Sacha's voice is slightly sharp as it draws her back in to the room and she forces herself to concentrate once more. She shouldn't have let her mind drift. She shouldn't let herself think of mama. Mama is no longer here. If mama was here, she could talk to her about how much she dislikes theatre, and have her gently stroke her hair and reassure her its not for much longer, that she'll try to talk to Guy about not pressuring her so much. She'd tell her that she's proud of her for doing her best and not giving up even though it's not what she wants to be doing - because sometimes we have to do things we don't like. Mama would make this better. But mama can't make this better. Mama is not there waiting for her. Nobody is.

"Doctor March," Again Sacha's voice but slightly more urgent this time. She looks back down at her hands. The gloves now bloodied. Though to her eye it is not noticeable, she knows her hand is still shaking. She doesn't know how to do this, and yet Sacha is telling her, he's talking her through it in that way of his. Once more she follows the instructions, only it doesn't feel quite right. Everything seems to happen in slow motion, and the next thing she knows there's a spurt of blood and she is covered in it and then around her is this hive of activity as she is somewhat pushed aside and others take over.

She has made a mistake. It takes her a moment to realise it. She had done something to endanger this patients life. Because of her, one of her colleagues might have to go and explain to those relatives why their loved one didn't make it, why things aren't going as well as had been expected. She could be the one to destroy their family. All because she had been selfish enough to let herself get wrapped up in her own thoughts. She has no place here. In this room, she doesn't matter. All that matters is the patient on the table, and fixing them.

Guy would most definitely be disappointed in her now. The fact she had made a monumental mistake, and in a world he expected her to excel because she was his flesh and blood. It didn't matter really what he thought, but still it hurt a little. Without mama, he was all she had really and even then she didn't really have him - she never had.

She needed mama. She would have known what to do and say here. She would have been able to help. Looking up she catches sight of the surgery viewing window, and with a gasp that she can barely hide she sees him there. He had come to watch, and now he has that look on his face that she has seen so many times before. She bites her lip and tries to look away but it is near impossible. She knows how he would have loved to say 'This is my daughter - the star surgeon" but it is never going to happen, and now he has seen for himself what a failure she is.

"Thank you everyone" She hears Sacha's voice again and she knows the surgery is over. She slips away before anyone can talk to her, or stop her. She can't be here anymore. Once she's changed she gets herself back to the ward, but almost instantly she is spotted by Arthur who starts to ask her how it went and she cannot bring herself to tell him. If he had been in there, it would have been different. He would have known exactly what to do and he wouldn't have made a mistake like that. And so she rushes away from him without a word.

She somehow ends up in the locker room, sat down against the cold bench, and trying to gain control of herself. She shouldn't let herself get this way, or perhaps it is not entirely her fault. It could all be made worse by the hormones that course around her body, making her weaker than she already is. If it wasn't for this maybe she could have held it together, and not been so distracted. She could have stopped herself dwelling on thoughts of mama and what should have been. Mama wouldn't want her to be like this. Mama would want her to be the daughter she had known, and loved. The one who had been excited to be accepted in to medical school, ready to chase her dreams, the daughter she had tried so desperately to protect from the realities of her illness even though it had pained her so to pretend. She owed it to mama to prove herself, and to be that person.

She closes her eyes and tries to steady her breathing once more before she stands up and makes her way to her locker. Pulling it open she reaches for the plastic bag stashed away, she drags one of the boxes free and stares at it for a second before she pulls it open and allows the single pill to drop in to her palm. It's just a normal pill, no different to so many others and yet it terrifies her. To hold it, and be so close to swallowing it, causes a flood of panic to course through her.

Mama would be disappointed in her, but then mama would hate to see her like this. And at the end of the day mama wasn't here. Closing her eyes, she raised her hand and before she had even really thought about it she allowed the pill to fall from her palm.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to anyone reading this :-) I hope this part is ok. **

She doesn't know what she expects to happen the moment the pill slips back her throat. There's a part of her that thinks maybe she should be feel different, like some almost immediate change should happen but the reality is far different. She doesn't really feel anything. It's like she hasn't taken it, that instead of allowing it to drop in to her mouth, she'd missed and let the pill drop to the floor.

She doesn't know what she should do with herself now. She feels numb. She could go back out on to the ward and go through the motions of being a doctor once more, she'd be robotic in her assessments but at the very least it would offer her distraction from her thoughts, which she is certain will return with a vengeance soon. There is never much respite from them.

But going back out there means facing her colleagues. It means seeing Sacha and being reminded of her failure. She has to pass this, if she cannot get through these years of being forced in to surgery then she cannot go on to do with her life what she wants – and if she cannot do that where does it leave her? She has little choice but to suffer the things she hates, as a means to an end but that doesn't make it any easier to bear.

But the alternative is going home. It is returning to the empty flat once again and having to find ways of entertaining herself until the boys return – and even when they do she is likely to find ways of avoiding them. By now they would know of what happened, so by the time their shifts end, it is likely they will have talked of it in great depth. No doubt Dominic would be bemoaning how she had been chosen over him, when he would have not mucked up as she had. Perhaps Arthur would be slightly kinder, but he too would feel it the way Dominic did. The boys were so much more worthy than she.

In the end the decision is taken from her. She doesn't quite know how it happens but somehow she ends up being sent home. She thinks, in the back of her mind, it could've been Colette's doing but she dreads to think how. She lives in fear that Colette will let her secret slip, when there is nothing to tell. Not now at any rate.

Once she is home, she finds herself falling in to her bed, and falling asleep far more quickly than she has done in weeks. But it is not a sleep that is restful. It is filled with images of mama, of the past. She twists and turns in her bed sheets and wishes that she could awaken but nothing seems to draw her out of her dream world. So she has to contend with the pictures that dance in and out of her mind.

There are memories that had once been warm and comforting, but now they are twisted by her cruel mind. The images bend and alter, dance with colours that were not really there until they become terrifying creations. And then come the images that she doesn't understand. They are not memories, and yet they are familiar to her. There is mama once more in her mind, only it is not mama as she knew her nor is it mama twisted by her mind. This is mama as she never saw her. Mama weakened by the disease that would eventually claim her life. Her face a mask of pain that cannot be disguised, her eyes filled with fear and hurt. There is sadness in that face. Dry, thin lips seem to move, they speak silently her name over and over. A call for the daughter who is not there, the daughter who never came to say goodbye to her mother. When was the last time that mama had even heard her whisper a proclamation of love? It was with those words still vibrating in her ears that her mama should've slipped away and yet there had been nothing like that.

It isn't until her alarm clock blares that she is able to draw herself from those torturous images, and she finds that her pillow is damp beneath her cheek from the tears she has shed. She was selfish to let mama suffer that way, to let her go without knowing how much she mattered. She should have fought to see her more, to look passed herself and her own needs for once in her life.

This was why she shouldn't be allowed to be a mama. She wasn't like her own. She wouldn't be able to love like she had, or put someone else's needs before her own. She could barely really look after herself. If she had mama here then maybe she could have tried. She could have done it with that support but she has nothing like that now. No child should be bought in to this world unwanted.

She knows the time is not yet up, the 24 hours that she should wait to take the second pill, but somehow she needs to do it now. She slips from beneath the covers of her bed, and moves towards the bag she has carelessly thrown on a chair. As a teenager, mama had scolded her for doing so, trying to instil in her a tidiness that she never quite managed, or at least not to mama's standards. It was partly why mama made such a wonderful matron, her ward was always well managed, neat and orderly and yet there was a sense of love, of fun within that environment. She was strict and yet always approachable. Her nurses, those who she trained, were like surrogate grown children who she nurtured until they became the nurses of whom she was most proud. Each one she claimed grew to be far better than she. Though in Zosia's eyes no-one would ever quite reach the standard that her mama had set.

Digging through her bag, she found to her dismay that the pharmacy bag was missing. She must, in her hurry, have slung it back in to her locker and not her bag. She had planned to avoid work today, to get it over with here, on her own where there were no prying eyes. But now she would have to travel in with the boys.

The boys who acted like everything was normal, because what did they know. She studied them carefully, trying to take them in. What would they think if they knew? Would either of them work out whose it was and scorn her for not allowing him a part in the decision making? Perhaps they would both be stupid enough to assume it was somebody else involved, a male party neither of them knew of. That would be easier in so many ways – though easier still was neither of them ever discovering the truth.

"You coming?" Somehow they had made it in to work, though she doesn't know how and Dominic is standing in the doorway of the locker room, looking at her carefully. She tries to force a smile on to her lips, and nods her head slightly.

"I'll be right there," she responds carefully, trying to keep her voice even. She wonders if either of the boys has noticed her quietness, or perhaps she has managed to talk enough to keep their suspicions at bay. She cannot even recall what the topics of conversation had been, or what her contributions had been but she doubts it'll have been much. She barely seems to be able to function. She reaches behind her bag to pull free the one from the pharmacy and grabs out the remaining box. She repeats the actions of the previous day, taking the second pill before she disposes of the bag.

"You're back," she didn't hear the door opening, and she whirls around to find Colette standing there, a box in her arms. The nurse is smiling as she comes closer, "I was hoping to catch you on your own," there is some emotion in her voice that the near frozen Zosia cannot quite name, only it frightens her ever so slightly. In her mind's eye, she imagines the pill tracking it's way down her oesophagus and making its way in to her stomach and how her body would start to absorb it's contents, and the affect that would have. That was when the feeling had risen in her, the sickness that rolled about her stomach - something that had become familiar to her over the last few days - became much more furious. She supposed it was the reality of doing what she had. She tried to push it away, ignore it.

"Why wouldn't I be?" again she tries to keep her voice level, but its harder than she expected. She doesn't understand why it seems so different this time. She watches as Colette takes and seat on the bench and motions for her to sit down next to her. Somehow she finds her body moving though she doesn't quite know how.

"After yesterday, and with everything that's going on," it seems like Colette is talking more to herself than to the doctor, but it doesn't really matter. There is nothing going on and soon she will have to convince Colette of that, before she sees fit to spread word around, "Anyway, I have this for you," the box that the director of nursing had held is pressed against Zosia's body and she finds herself struggling to recall how to take hold of it and not let it fall to the ground and somewhat awkwardly Colette slips open the flaps at the top allowing the doctor to look at the contents.

"I don't understand," She looks down at the items inside of the box, unsure whether she really wants to look at them or not. So many of the items in there are familiar to her and yet she is near certain she has never seen them before. With a shaking hand, she reaches in to the box and allows her fingers to run over the different things it contains. Beneath everything is a blanket, thick and warm and so reminiscent of one she herself had, had in childhood. If she just closed her eyes for a second, she is certain she'd be able to feel it around her body, and mama's gentle hands tucking it in around her.

"Your mama she asked me to keep this for you," Colette's words though break through her thoughts and Zosia finds herself shivering. The blanket that she'd had in childhood had been made for her by her grandmother, it had been done painstakingly until it was absolutely perfect and she had loved it. Slowly she pulls free two of the upper items, and stares at them.

"I don't …" her hands shake. In her fingers she holds one of the smallest hats she has ever seen, its stitches less perfect in places but obviously handmade with a great deal of love, and next to it is a small teddy – again handmade but this time much neater.

"You're mama made these," just hearing those words causes Zosia's stomach to roll that little bit harder and she finds herself swallowing hard. Mama, as perfect as she was, had always bemoaned that she didn't have her own mama's skill when it came to these things. Her mama – Zosia's grandmother – had been able to make anything, no matter the skill it had required she was able to do it.

"But she …" Zosia shook her head, it didn't make sense to her and holding these things hurt. She didn't deserve them. Even the little hat with it's imperfections was perfect in her eyes.

"When she found out she was ill, she decided to learn all of those skills her mama had," Colette smiled at the memory, of her friend having spent so many hours learning to crafts, getting frustrated when things turned out less than perfect and her pride when finally she completed something, "She didn't want to just sit around and wait for death"

Zosia frowned, peering back down in to the box though she wanted nothing more than to run away. Inside were tiny socks, and little outfits, so many things that a child could treasure. These were the things that would keep mama present and known to a grandchild she would never meet. Each stitch, each thread in each item was filled with mama's love for a grandchild that hadn't even existed. Each millimetre was filled with mama. If Zosia were to hold it against her nose, would it still smell of mama? If she held it against her cheek would it be like mama's hand was pressed there too?

"She wanted her grandchildren to have these things she made," Colette continued to speak seemingly unaware of Zosia's present state, "She told me to give it to you when the time was right and now …" Only Colette couldn't finish speaking because Zosia had pushed the box away from her and dropped what she'd been holding to the ground. The F1 dashed away from the room, and the director of nursing without a word.

That was how she found herself hovering over the toilet bowl, her abdominal muscles aching from the effort of urging. She had eaten little in the last few days, for fear that she would find herself in this very position. Not that she could bring anything up now - no matter how hard her body was trying. She urges once more, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

She isn't sure what she wants to happen. If she's sick now, she cannot know how much has been taking in by her body, or whether it would be effective and she cannot be sure if that's a good or a bad thing. Her body's reaction had been so furious, that perhaps it was it's way of telling her she had done wrong in acting as she did. Perhaps the reason she was still urging now was not because of the nausea, but her way of trying to reverse the action she'd taken. But she isn't so sure she wants to reverse it.

Everything is so messed up that she cannot quite understand what is happening to her. She shouldn't be alone in a toilet cubicle, with nobody to rub at her back and to hold back her hair. There should be someone with her, to support her and to help her to feel that she isn't alone. She wants someone to wrap their arms around her body, and hold her.

But she doesn't deserve that. She doesn't deserve somebody looking after her and caring about her. It is her own fault she is here, and feeling like this. Everything about this is her fault - just as everything always is. She should face facts that the common dominator in all things that go wrong is her.

She doesn't deserve those beautiful things that mama had made either.

"You know, your mama suffered like this too," she feels Colette come to stand behind her, though she wishes she hadn't. She should be left alone, to suffer alone. She deserved to suffer. Even if she could bring up the pill, it didn't take away from the fact she'd taken the first, that the damage could already be done.

"Please don't," She doesn't want to hear about mama. She cannot let herself think of mama, and all of the work mama had put in to those things she had made.

"She was so proud when she finished that blanket," the words don't seem to register with Colette though as she continues to talk, "we all thought she wasn't going to be able to finish it, I even tried to get her to show me how so that I could, but somehow she managed it," there's something of an awe in Colette's voice as she thinks back. Only it hurts Zosia all the more, to think of her failing mother and how she had hung on in those last painful few days to finish something for her daughter. The daughter who had failed her in so many ways.

She retches once more over the bowl, and Colette's hand comes to rest on her back, gently rubbing small circles upon it.

"Your mama used to swear by something," Accepting that once more nothing was going to come up, she sits back and tries to block everything out. If only Colette would leave her be and stop talking about mama in that way. If she knew what she'd done, what was going to happen, she'd leave her alone then. Just like everybody would. "She wrote it down for you,"

"What?" She can't help herself but respond.

"In the box, she wrote everything she wanted you to know in a notebook," Zosia can almost hear the smile in Colette's voice as she thinks about it. Even when she wasn't here mama was trying to help her, to look after and support her. What would mama think of her now though? There would be nothing in the book for this, nothing in there for what you do when you've thrown everything you've been given back in the face of the one you love most – even though she is no longer here still she managed to do it.

"I can't do this," though she doesn't fully understand what this is. She doesn't understand anything anymore, she just feels lost.

"Zosia," the hand that was against her back is no longer touching her, but the young doctor can feel the way Colette has her arm hovering, as though she is locked in an internal debate as to whether she dare wrap it around the younger woman's body or just allow it to drop away.

"I can't," she tries again, but she just cannot seem to get hold of her thoughts long enough. She needs something but the one thing she so desperately wants she cannot have, and even then she doesn't deserve it.

"We need to get you out of here," Colette's voice is practical, and what she says does at least make some degree of sense. Anyone could catch them here, and that would only serve to increase any speculation as to what is going on with her. She nods her head, no longer trusting herself to form words, "good girl," it's somewhat patronising but she doesn't respond. Instead she forces herself to stand up when Colette does and to follow her stiffly as she walks out of the door.

"Ms Sheward, I think this is yours," a nameless support worker approaches them with the box in her arms, casting a curious glance in the direction of the doctor before her attention once more returns to the nurse, pressing the box against her, "I suppose a congratulations is in order," she adds brightly, eyes casting down to look at the nurse more closely though they flick quickly to the doctor once more at the almost panicked squeak that she seems to emit.

"Thank you Cara, but this belongs to a friend not me," Colette keeps her voice even, her words careful, "now if you'll excuse us, I'm sure you have work to be doing," and with that the young worker scurries off though Zosia is certain it is in the direction of a colleague with whom she'll share her latest theory and not to resume her work. But Colette is moving again, and Zosia has to follow her, though she doesn't quite know how her legs manage to carry her, or how she avoids bumping in to walls and people because her mind cannot seem to fix on to anything for more than a second. And then just ahead of her is Colette, and that box. Colette who is leading her to somewhere she doesn't know, following strange pathways that make little sense – and all she can do is trail behind.


End file.
